


Black Fairy

by PrettyParoxysms



Category: Silent Hill, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Drabble, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyParoxysms/pseuds/PrettyParoxysms
Summary: So, he was drowning too? Suffocating like he was inside himself, unable to accept that this thing composed of mere bones and flesh could be so...terrible.





	Black Fairy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun drabble on the possible inner machinations of PH over the course of the game series. Perhaps I may start a series with actual characters involved. Anyhoo thanks!

The siren’s calls continued obstinately even as he made his way down into the depths of the prison. The glossy bodies of the caged monsters convulsed a fearful greeting, scuttling as far as possible from their tormentor whilst in their suspended cages. His body twitched madly in return; the overgrown cleaver he wield clattering rapidly on the ground from his uncontrolled fit. The wails of the siren died away behind the prison’s iron walls, abandoning him in the atmosphere of contorted restraints. A twisted limb caught his attention, the curvaceous part attached to a womanly body, its breasts covered in a gray sheen. Its face remained featureless like most of the creatures in the town. The townspeople had always been afraid of blame. He nudged it with the heel of his foot. Dead. With a curt convulse of his arms, he grabbed the thing by its slender ankle and commenced dragging it away to properly dispose of it. Placing the gargantuan sword against a wall, he entered a room—his room. There was a shanty bed and nothing more. 

A succession of raspy breathing escaped him, his head writhing from the excruciating heat. His hands flung to the edges of the helmet as he attempted to pry it off, his struggling shouts muffled. Would he grant him freedom? Would he be so gracious? So far, they all had sealed fast the iron clasps of his burden—their punishment. Throaty growls of frustration mingled with pain echoed deafeningly inside the metal contraption as he continued to tug and thrash. He froze when a sudden shift in weight produced a throbbing sensation in his shoulders, a pain of relief. It had budged a miniscule inch, so subtle only his accustomed body could recognize it. However, it remained tightly clasped onto his head but he knew that it had shifted. Melted fingertips fell to his side limply, his strength somehow sapped by trying to prolong the new freedom. The head covering slid back into its proper agonizing position and a metallic exhale similar to a sigh resonated quietly. He craned his head toward his door to see the array of punishment he had devised. He did not question the reason behind his acts of violence. He knew that it was what they wanted, what they craved. Who better to grant them their wish to receive consequence for their actions?

\---

Overly defined biceps bugled in display of unbridled strength, their constriction beneath ashen skin threatening rupture. It was as if his flesh struggled to stretch over the chiseled meat of muscle, growing sickeningly taut along scarred pectorals and a broad, varicose neck. Between the lapse of the last siren and new, he had changed. Apron missing and height even more staggering, his indomitable form became near invincible. Fingers once webbed together in latex stretched and curled independently whilst the glossy material of his gloves encased his forearms like charred second skin. It felt like he was drowning in his own body. As if his flesh was a separate beast swallowing him whole. The way limbs twitched madly conveyed his struggle with the new form.He stood in a random, disarrayed hallway simply experimenting with his evolved body. Could it be considered progression or a step backward into a more violent, wretched self? The strangely coherent thought urged the monster to move, jerking his thinner but still overbearing sword to his side. It was no longer an over-exaggerated butcher knife but leaner like the blade of a pocketknife. It screeched its sentiments of promised rapture, because that is what they begged for. A climax to their repentance he was slaved to provide. 

His bare torso heaved a metallic sigh like the beastly fumes of a dying furnace. The swelter inside his helmet was intolerable in light of his need to breathe. So, he was drowning too? Suffocating like he was inside himself, unable to accept that this thing composed of mere bones and flesh could be so...terrible. 


End file.
